I Am Jack's Twisted Imagination
by Vaughn Valentine
Summary: After taking an experimental drug, the narrator enters his own mind to get rid of Tyler once and for all. Rated for language and future violence. Please R&R!
1. Of Heaven and Hell

It's been a long time here in Heaven.

I still talk to God every once in a while, just to tell him that Tyler is gone, gone forever, I don't need to be here, I'm a fully reformed member of society, i.e., All the Usual Bullshit.

I'm here in Heaven, and the angels pushing the other souls past me look at me like I'm some rabid dog that's going to bite chunks out of their flesh if they get too close. The other souls are a little afraid of me. Well hell, I'm afraid of me too, sometimes.

There were a few members of Project Mayhem here before, but they're both gone now. One threw himself out of a third story window, screaming "TYLER LIVES!" at the top of his lungs with enough force to shatter concrete and kill doves flying overhead. He splattered in the parking lot. I had a lovely view from my own window.

The other one was found dispensing his various bodily fluids in the coffee pot in the break room. The angels massaged his head with their Billy clubs for a while and told the police he'd slipped.

I'm not sure what happened to the third one, but I know that one minute he was there, telling me, "We'll have you out very soon, sir." The next minute, he was lying at the bottom of the stairwell with his head on the wrong way.

Marla calls sometimes. I still won't let her see me. I don't know why; God knows she's probably dating some other neurotic corporate zombie with delusions of paradise. Paradise is dead. I put a gun in my mouth and blew his head off with it.

Tyler is dead.

Right?

---

It was on a cold winter morning that God came in my room and told me I was going on a trip.

I asked Him where, and He chuckled at me like some deranged clown getting ready to sacrifice a small child to the dark god of circuses.

"Well, technically you won't even be leaving this room," He told me. "Today I'm going to give you an experimental drug called Viatrax. The Viatrax will induce you into a dreamlike state, almost akin to hypnosis, and allow you to enter your own subconscious. I believe that this will allow you to finally confront your other self, and possibly rid your mind of him entirely."

But Tyler's already dead, I told Him.

"Unfortunately, I don't think he is," God told me. "The incident with the orderly the other night. . .and the fact that the nurses say that they can hear you laughing every night, in your sleep. I'm afraid it all points to the fact that, in some level of your mind, Tyler Durden is still alive. And what was it that you told me in our last session? That he said that if you ever turned against him, he would get back at you for it?"

I didn't have an answer for him. Somewhere behind my ears I could hear a voice chuckling. From deep inside my cerebral cortex came five words:

"I am Jack's Smirking Revenge."

I look up at God and tell him okay, shoot me up.

He does.

I fall asleep. Halfway, anyway.

And I go on the hunt.


	2. Now Entering the Subconcious

I fell.

I fell, plummeted, dropped, pick your verb.

The ground that turned out to be water rushed up to greet me, and I splashed like a cannonball. The flying drops of water turned into a rain of silver spikes. I swam out of the way just in time to avoid becoming some human Chia Pet.

There was a little beach nearby. I swam to it, got to my feet, looked around.

Not much to look at. Endless black sea in one direction, with black clouds looming over the horizon and a silver sun peeking over the rim of the world. Small rockets were buzzing around the sky as if searching for a giant gorilla to attack. I didn't have to look to know that they were piloted by the best space monkeys my brain had to offer.

I looked the other way, and saw a city made of green and black crystal, a city bigger than any I had ever seen before. An endless field of spiked turrets, towers, and streets paved with gold. Ikea billboards were everywhere. A single road led to city, paved with pieces of melted silverware.

There was a sign a few feet away.

WELCOME TO THE CITY OF JACK'S SUBCONCIOUS.

POPULATION: YOU.

Well, it wasn't what I pictured my mind to look like, but I suppose your mind can only tell when it's looking in a mirror. And if your mind can look into a mirror you need to check into a hospital for a gaping head wound.

There was a loud roar, and a yellow motorcycle pulled up beside me. A hamster was sitting on it. It was wearing aviator goggles. It was about three feet tall.

"You're the chosen one," the hamster told me. "The Dark Master will be most displeased that you are here, but you're our only hope. Her only hope."

I'm not really sure what that means, I said to him.

"The power animal," the hamster said. "The one force keeping this world together. If the power animal is killed, then he will be free again."

I didn't bother asking who. I am Jack's flash of insight.

Where do I go, I asked the hamster.

"First, find your younger. Then, find the object of desire, and the object of loss. They are your way to him."

The hamster peeled out, leaving a cloud of dust and powdered sugar.

I started walking to the city.


	3. Wasted Youth

The next thing I knew, I was standing in a weird dojo-kind-of room with a straw floor and silk screens for doors. The birds were chirping outside, and I was inside, wondering why the fuck I wasn't outside like I was before I was inside.

I turned and looked back. The city was still there, but still just as far away, like the Emerald City on some alien crack.

"You seek the Dark Master," a voice that was mine said from behind me.

I turned again. There was someone there who hadn't been there before. A tall, skinny kid in a leather jacket. His hair was spiked. He wore jeans and a pair of tall combat boots for kicking mailboxes in.

Who are you, I asked him.

The kid said, "I am Jack's Wasted Youth. You left me here a long time ago, when you didn't want to make out with that girl behind the garage. I've been waiting a long time for someone like you, pal. We're going to start a lot of fires together."

I asked him where Tyler was.

"In your mind, stupid."

No, which part of my mind was he in.

"Well, I'll tell you, but I need you to do something for me, first."

I already knew what he wanted.

"I want you to hit me as hard as you can."

And this was it. I was back in the parking lot at the bar I wound up in after my condo exploded before I met him, Patron Saint of Destruction: Tyler Durden. Part of him was in my youth. Was I that good-looking, once? The thought made me happy.

Of course, not as happy as I was when my left fist connected solidly with the Kid's ear.

He screamed. And it was fight Club all over again.

We ripped off our shirts and shoes, and somewhere I could hear him saying the rules.

The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. I kicked the kid hard in his right knee.

The second rule of fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. He responded by driving his fist into the bridge of my nose, breaking it explosively.

The third rule is, some guy yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. I picked him up and slammed him into the floor, once...twice...three times.

Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight. The Kid's shin landed right in my groin and I screamed.

Fifth rule, one fight at a time. I kneed him in the ribs. Hard enough to break a few.

Sixth rule, no shirts, no shoes. Kidney punch. Hurt like hell. I fell to my knees.

Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to. The Kid thought he was winning. He put his hands around my throat.

And the eighth and final rule is, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.

I whipped my head up, slamming it right into his face.

He fell down. I won.

I helped him back up and we put the shirts back on.

"Not bad for an old guy," the Kid said.

We left the dojo together to find the ice cave.


End file.
